


Rowan and Roses

by rynthae



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, And a lot of lavender tea, Angst, Fantasy AU, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Iwaoi in the background, KageHina - Freeform, Love Potion Number 9, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Medieval, Paganism, Protective Kageyama Tobio, Werewolf, Which is really just a fancy word for werewolf, Witchcraft, Witches, Wolfhearted Hinata, slowburn, slowburn kagehina, witch kageyama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-07-10 19:29:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15955979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rynthae/pseuds/rynthae
Summary: When the wolf attacked, it changed Hinata’s entire life in an instant. As the moon grows fuller and Hinata’s nightmares worsen, his fear of hurting someone drives him to the one place everyone in town avoids: the woods. If men can turn into wolves, then the Rowan Witch must be real—and might be the only person who can help Hinata.





	1. Blue Moon

For as long as he could remember, Hinata had been warned away from the woods. Whenever he strayed too close to the trees in search of strawberries or adventure, his mother cried out and chased him down, face white and breath heaving. 

The Rowan Witch lived out there, in the forest, and if Hinata knew what was good for him, he would stay far away. 

Hinata never paid much attention to the stories, even though rumors were whispered throughout town. As far as he could tell, the witch was just a colorful tale designed to scare misbehaving children into obedience—and as much trouble as he got into, it was no wonder his parents brought the stories up again and again. And even if there was a witch—the town seemed suspiciously peaceful. Boring, even. Too boring to have an angry witch for a neighbor. 

His conviction wavered the night that Henry, their baby goat, disappeared. With the moon full and silvery above them, the small family searched high and low on the farm. Hinata’s father inspected the gate, left ajar, eyes wandering into the shadow of the trees. 

“He’s not on the farm,” Hinata insisted. “I looked _everywhere_. He has to be out in the woods. I’ll just take a quick look, I’m sure he’s—” 

“Absolutely not! Stars above, Shouyou, I’ve told you and told you, it’s _dangerous_ ,” Hinata’s mother cried, wringing her hands. 

 “But—Henry’s out there, we have to go get him!” Natsu keened, tears dripping down her cheeks. “The witch is gonna get Henry, we have to save him....” 

And, even though his parents had never gone into the woods after dark, Hinata saw his father crumple. Natsu loved Henry. Her muffled sobs were so much more real than rumors of witches and magic. Their father heaved a sign, relenting. 

“Stay here,” he commanded, voice firm. “I’ll get Henry.” 

Hinata’s stomach dropped as his father grabbed the wood-splitting axe and faced them, expression grim. 

“Wait here,” he repeated.  
  
And then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows, the crunch of heavy boots on fallen leaves fading. Hinata waited on baited breath, listening. An owl called out, soft and melancholy. The minutes stretched on. Suspense shifted to tedium, then to stress. Natsu fell asleep in their mother’s lap. His mother’s hands shifted through Natsu’s unruly hair and eventually settled in her skirts, fisting in the fabric. How long had it been? An hour? Two? Hinata lost track. He looked up at the moon, sure that it had tracked far across the sky. It already slid down toward the other horizon. 

“Dad’s not back yet.” It was obvious. There was no point in saying the words, but they seemed necessary, somehow. 

“He’ll be back soon,” his mother told him. Her words sounded more scared than reassuring. The tremble in her voice gave her away as she averted her eyes. 

Hinata tugged at the grass next to him, heart hammering despite his determination. “I’m going to go look for him.”

 “You will _not!_ ” his mother hissed, whirling back. Tears shone wet beneath her eyes in the moonlight. “You will stay here, where it is safe.” 

Natsu stirred and murmured in her sleep, but did not wake. 

“It’s been too long, I’m going. Maybe—maybe he needs help, maybe he’s lost. I’m gonna go get him, I’ll be right back, I promise, okay?” 

“Shouyou—” she let out the broken plea like a sob. “Shouyou, stay,” she whispered. 

“I’ll be right back,” he reminded her, standing up before his courage could waver. He gave her his bravest smile, and when he turned back to face the woods, he focused on the task ahead instead of the sound of his mother crying behind him. 

The world around him grew darker with every step forward. Young saplings gave way to massive trunks; distant branches reached toward the heavens. A path appeared underfoot, so faint he could barely see it in the darkness. Stars winked through the windows of the canopy above. Between groves of trees, moonlight pooled in great, luminous puddles on the forest floor. 

The woods were alive with sound: the soft drone and singing of insects, the mournful call of nightbirds, and the lively chitter of nearby bats. The leaves rustled in the breeze like a whisper of music, and leaves and branches crunched beneath his shoes. 

“Dad?” He called out, voice smaller than he’d intended. Then, more loudly, “dad!” 

He held his breath and listened, but no one answered. Crossing his arms for warmth, Hinata kept moving forward. His eyes darted back and forth, searching for his dad, for Henry, or... he didn’t like to think about what else might be lurking in the forest. The trees that had seemed so welcoming and exciting during the day had turned menacing. They loomed over him in the dim light, accusatory. He didn’t belong. He was trespassing in this place. He shouldn’t be here. He knew that, deep down, but ignored the nagging sensation. “ _Dad!_ ” He shouted, drowning out his growing fear with his own voice. 

He listened, steps slowing to a stop as he waited for an answer. The woods were quiet around him. Too quiet. Goosebumps rose on his arms as he realized the cries of birds and bats, frogs and crickets had disappeared. Something large rustled in the underbrush—close by. Too close. Heart leaping into his throat, Hinata forced himself to move toward the source of the sound. Growls and whimpers punctuated the silence as he crept closer, and a figure came into view. It hunched over the ground, distorted, impossible to make out. Dark liquid glistened beneath it, slick over the forest floor. A motionless heap sprawled nearby, impaled with something glimmering in the moonlight: an axe. 

His father’s axe. 

Hinata forgot how to breathe, forgot how to move. He froze as he drank in the scene; his father’s axe buried in a dead wolf’s flank. Blood shine so dark it looked black, coating everything—and there was _so_ , so much blood…. The twisted figure near it let out low, agonized sounds. Ripped fabric and ripped skin shifted in the moonlight. Fur rose and fell from it like waves lapping at sand. Limbs lengthened and moved in sickening directions, and more blood poured from wounds so deep they seemed endless. Even staring at it this close—too close—Hinata couldn’t tell if it was human or animal. Until it looked back at him. The face twisted into a pained snarl and lengthened into an unnatural snout, but it was still all too familiar. 

“Dad....” The word fell from Hinata’s lips, felt like razorblades in his throat. 

His father let out a strangled sound. Wetness shone in his eyes as pained cries tore from his throat, and he changed. Hands and feet shortened into narrow paws, a tail tucked between his legs, and an injured wolf stood where his father had just seconds ago. Blood still gushed from the slashes that decorated its body like ribbons. 

“Dad!” He didn’t think about the danger, didn’t think at all—he ran toward his father as the wolf’s legs wavered. Teeth snapped a breath away from his ear, and a growl rumbled out of the beast. Before Hinata could say anything, do anything, the wolf barreled past him in a broken run, sharp cries following it as it disappeared into the woods. 

Hinata’s knees buckled; he fell to his hands, shaking so hard he couldn’t breathe. Tears dripping onto the leaves beneath him, he choked on the sobs welling up in his throat. A rushing sound filled his ears as the forest floor wavered and tilted. His stomach twisted, rebelling against what he had seen. Shutting his eyes, he tried to push past it—push past the dizziness or the roar of white noise in his head. He had to get out of there. He had to warn his mom, he had to make sure that she and Natsu were safe. 

He stumbled to his feet, falling against a tree for support. Swallowing a few desperate breaths, Hinata hobbled toward the farm. His wavering, slow steps grew faster, surer. Heart pounding, he pressed forward, walking as fast as he could, breaking into a run, sprinting, flying through the trees back toward home. 

“ _Mom! Natsu!_ ” he screamed their names, scrambling to remember how much further home was. His lungs burned but he didn’t slow; he ran as hard and fast as he could. And, finally, the trees gave way. The little farmhouse appeared. He searched frantically, scouring the treeline for his mother and sister. A blood-curdling scream drew his gaze to the spot, and even though he was already running there, already on the way, he was too late. 

The wolf that had been his father nosed at his mother where she lay in the grass, motionless. Blood stained her skirts and her eyes stared up at the moon, empty. A metal rake dragged behind the wolf, some of the tines embedded in its flesh. It let out broken whimpers and growls, nudging the lifeless form. Natsu screamed and screamed. Her voice never stopped—a high, shrill keen. She yanked at the wolf’s tail and fur and anything she could grab, trying to drag it away from their mother. The wolf whipped around, snapping at Natsu. 

“ _Natsu!_ ” Hinata never knew he could move so fast. He shot between them, shoved Natsu away from the wolf as hard as he could before he hit the ground between them. Teeth came down on his arm at once. Pain seared through him like fire. He screamed, jerking away, hitting the wolf with his free fist as he tried to break free. Blood ran hot down his fingertips. He hit and kicked and screamed, and fought back with every ounce of strength that he had. He couldn’t look back, but he knew Natsu was behind him, he knew he was her last and only hope. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his blows slowed. Exhaustion burned in his limbs and pain ripped through his arm. He could hear Natsu saying something. His brain refused to process the words. His hand met fur, again and again. Tears flowed so fast he was blinded by them. 

“Shou—” Natsu whimpered, close—too close. “Shouyou, stop,” 

He couldn’t stop. Sobs shook his whole body as he rained blows down on the beast, the force of them waning. 

“Stop, please stop,” Natsu cried, hugging him tight around the waist. He looked down, blinking tears away. The wolf was dead, jaws slack around his arm. Blood still trickled from where the rake had impaled it, and where claws and teeth had torn it before. Arms falling slack, he wondered how long it had been dead, wondered how long Natsu had been calling him. She sobbed into his shirt, hugging him so tight it hurt. He pried his arm out of the dead beast’s jaws and ignored the deep, sickening ache where the teeth had sunk deep into flesh. Pulling Natsu closed, he hugged his sister tight, rocked her back and forth as she cried with him. He brushed her hair, lied and told her it would be okay, and held her close as the moon disappeared beneath the horizon.


	2. The Rowan Witch

Suga, a neighbor and family friend, was the first to find Hinata. Sunrise found him and Natsu curled up in the grass, still hugging each other from when exhaustion had dragged them into troubled sleep. Suga’s gasp woke Hinata, and he sat up unsteadily, arm crumpling beneath him. Sharp, nauseating pain surged through it, and he hugged it to his chest with a broken sound. Natsu stirred, sniffling with a wave of new tears as she spotted the dead wolf and their fallen mother nearby. 

“You… you’re alive,” Suga whispered, the color draining from his face as his eyes slid to those who were not. “Stars above....” 

Hinata knew an explanation was expected. Knew that he should say something, anything, but the words stuck in his throat and tears clouded his eyes anytime he tried to speak. He could only shake his head dismally, shoulders trembling. 

Suga knelt down to put an arm around each of them, and helped them up, pushing them away from the grisly scene. “We’re gonna go to my place,” he soothed, even though his voice was shaking, and his normally cheerful smile seemed scared and forced. “Let’s get you two patched up, okay? I—I’ll make you some blackberry pie. Come on—it’s just around the corner.” 

Hinata let Suga steer them toward his house, grateful for any excuse to distance himself from last night. Suga’s house was a favorite place to visit, normally. Their neighbor was friendly and welcomed their company often; he’d been endlessly patient with Natsu’s questions and games, had never minded when the siblings ran into his land during a game of chase. Even now, even though he looked like he’d seen a ghost, he set Millie, his youngest kitten, right in Natsu’s lap as he pulled out bandages and ointment for Hinata’s arm. Natsu hugged the silver tabby close, and Hinata gave silent thanks for the fact that Suga hadn’t asked them questions. He couldn’t face them yet, wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to. 

“Can I see your arm really quick, Shouyou? It might sting—but we should get it cleaned up so it will heal.” 

Shouyou nodded, and held out his arm. He braced himself, but still hissed in pain as Suga washed and disinfected the wound. Suga frowned at the injury. Dark purple and blue bruises had blossomed around the puncture marks. “Make sure to take it easy for awhile, okay? It will need rest.” 

Shouyou bit his lower lip as Suga spread ointment over the wound and wrapped it in bandages. He didn’t answer, but Suga didn’t seem to mind. 

“You two are welcome to stay as long as you’d like, okay? Millie loves Natsu, and goodness knows I bake too much anyway—and I have a spare bedroom upstairs, okay? I’d like to keep an eye on that arm and make sure it heals up good and proper.” 

“Thanks,” Hinata whispered, chest aching. 

Suga looked torn, then leaned over to hug Hinata gently. When he pulled back, he told Hinata, “and, if… if you ever need someone to talk to, you can always talk to me, okay? But for now, just rest and take it easy.” 

Hinata nodded. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to talk about it. 

The days that followed felt surreal. The town sheriff stopped by; he seemed on friendly terms with Suga and the two talked in hushed tones over morning tea. Probably about Hinata’s parents. He watched from the upstairs window as people came and left his old home with wagons and wheelbarrows. He tried not to think about what might be in the wagons when they left. People came and went to Suga’s, too, exchanging hushed words on the doorstep and pushing baskets of fruit and vegetables or fresh bread into his hands. 

“How are they?” people would ask, and Suga always gave them the same sad smile. 

Hinata’s arm improved slowly. The gaping puncture marks shrank to small red scabs and the bruises faded from angry purple to red to yellow, then disappeared all-together. Scar tissue edged the healing wound like a halo. Hinata could still make out the exact shape of the teeth. 

After that first night outside, Hinata struggled to sleep. Nightmares plagued him; death filled his eyes. Sometimes the wolf struck him down. Sometimes he was the wolf. Always, screaming filled his dreams, distant and keening until Suga shook him awake and he realized the sound poured from his own mouth. 

At first the dreams were random, if terrible. Dead, staring eyes and blood splashing over grass, over his hands. Sharp, shining white teeth bared in the darkness. Soon, they took on a disturbing pattern. A searing pain in his arm prompted the change; fur spread over his skin. He crumpled to the ground on all fours and ran through the forest, ears laid flat against his skull as too many scents and too many sounds overwhelmed him. He tried to scream, and only a melancholy howl escaped. When he did wake, his screams were as real and as human as ever, though. 

Too early for most, Hinata stared out the window despite his exhaustion. He watched the moon set, stomach twisting as it disappeared. It had disappeared after that fateful night; had shrunk to nothing and left the sky dark. But it was back now, growing fuller every day. Natsu seemed better day by day; she smiled more and played more. But as the moon’s crescent grew fatter, dread coiled deep inside of Hinata. He stared down at his arm, at the fresh scar from the wolf’s bite. He forced himself to think back to that terrible scene—the wolf impaled with the axe, their father gravely injured and changing into a beast. 

At the sound of movement downstairs, he left the bedroom and wandered toward the kitchen. 

“Oh! Shouyou, you’re up early.” Suga offered a smile. “Hungry?” 

Normally he was always hungry, but Hinata shook his head. Instead, he asked, “Suga?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I know it’s a lot to ask,” he admitted, pained to even bring it up. “But could you watch Natsu for a little while? I just—I want to make sure she will be safe.” 

“Of course,” Suga told him, confused. “You are both welcome here.”

“I… I have to go somewhere, for a bit,” Hinata told him, dancing around the real reason. 

“Where do you have to go?” Suga asked, surprised. “And—are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” Hinata told him. “I… I just need to figure some things out. I’ll come back when I can though.” 

Suga seemed to understand, even though Hinata was sure he didn’t. His expression softened, and he reached out to smooth down Hinata’s hair. “Okay.” 

Hinata hugged him tightly, blinking back tears. “Thanks.” 

“Anytime. I’ll pack you a bit of food, okay? And there’s an extra cloak by the door—so you don’t get cold.” 

True to his word, Suga packed an amazing amount of food into a leather pack—bread, dried meat, cheese, scones, various fruit, and biscuits. He fussed over the light blue cloak, straightening it on Hinata out and patting it down over Hinata’s shoulders, checking the clasp twice. He gave Hinata one more big hug, and smiled down at him. “Come back soon, and be safe, okay?” he reminded him. Hinata nodded and gave a brave smile. He didn’t trust his voice enough to make a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep. 

“You’re coming back soon, right?” Natsu whimpered, tugging on his hand. Hinata knelt down to pull her into a hug, closing his eyes tightly. 

“I’ll come back as soon as I can,” Hinata told her, messing up her hair gently. “So be good for Suga while I’m away, okay?”

 Natsu whined, and hugged him tighter. “Okay....” 

Hinata scrubbed at his eyes with a sleeve, stepping out the door. “See you soon,” he told them, though he wasn’t sure if soon was the right word. He turned away before his resolve could waver and walked back toward the place that haunted his dreams. Chest tightening, Hinata’s hands tightened around the shoulder strap of his pack as his feet carried him closer to home, closer to that terrible place where he’d faced so much death. 

He considered the possibility that he was completely crazy. There might be other wolves—or more dangers hidden away in the forest. He might never come back at all. But… he had to take the risk. If there was any chance he might transform like his father did, he couldn’t endanger Natsu. She had to stay safe, above all else. 

The spot by the gate where he’d waited for an eternity for his father to return was overgrown but clean. It felt weird to see it that way. He didn’t linger—couldn’t stand to. He kept walking toward the trees. In the daytime, it almost felt like just another adventure, just another stroll through the woods to look for strawberries. He could almost hear his mother shout for him to come back, tell him that it wasn’t safe, just like she always had. 

No one called for him, though. And although strawberries peppered the ground at his feet, he didn’t stop. He walked deeper into the woods, following the thin trail that wound through it. The trees grew in size to tower above him: sentinels watching his progress into forbidden territory. Moss draped from their limbs in emerald curtains, and birds chattered far above. Butterflies roamed flowering bushes and decaying logs, basking in the sunlight and perching atop blue flowers. 

It didn’t feel like the same place at all. 

It felt wrong, for a place so beautiful and serene to have brought horror and death into his life. 

Among the giant spruce and tangled maple, fallen logs littered the forest floor; roots wrapped around them like the arms of great beasts, climbing their fallen brethren. New trees sprouted from the mossy floor, small at first, larger the further Hinata went. Sprays of blue-green leaves fanned out from their branches; white flowers and scarlet berries decorated them like ornaments. Rowan trees. Hinata sucked in a breath, squeezing the strap of his pack. He had to be getting close, now. 

Any doubt that the Rowan Witch was real had evaporated in the wake of that terrible night. Now, he just hoped that the witch would hear him out instead of killing him on the spot. 

Hinata almost didn’t spot the cottage. Climbing roses grew thick over the home, obscuring it from view, and a garden more wild than any jungle towered around it. Flowering vines climbed trees of every variety; the heady scent of mint was undercut by the delicate perfume of fruit and roses. Poppies nodded in the breeze, and bees climbed lavender stalks; butterflies lingered on purple coneflowers, and foxglove flowers stared at the mushrooms below, hooded and secretive. 

It had to be the place. 

Hinata walked up to the front door, wringing the strap of his pack and summoning his courage. He stared at the blue roses beside the door, trying to think of what to say. Before he could come up with anything—the door opened abruptly. Any plans, any ideas abandoned Hinata as a figure towered over him, and he went cold with fear. Shrinking away, he looked up in alarm to meet two eyes the color of the night sky, narrowed with anger beneath dark brows and severe black bangs. 

The first thing he thought was that the man before him didn’t look very much like a witch. Not that he knew what a witch was supposed to look like—but this person didn’t even resemble the stories of green-skinned, old, or ugly crooked figures. Actually, if he didn’t look ready to murder Hinata in cold blood, Hinata might have thought he was beautiful. 

“What do you want?” the man snapped, crossing his arms. His voice was low, commanding. 

Hinata jumped, and squeaked out, “are you the Rowan Witch?” 

Those blue eyes narrowed at him, studied him carefully. “Some call me that.” 

Fear and relief flooded through Hinata in a potent cocktail, and his eyes burned as the words poured out of him. “My name is Hinata Shouyou! I live on the edge of the forest, I grew up on a farm there, and—” 

“And your friends dared you to come here and harass me,” the witch guessed, expression shifting to a venomous glare. “Or you’re trying to impress a girl. Or you want bragging rights. Right? Well I’m not in the mood so get off my porch before I remove you myself.” The blue roses reached out toward him, unraveling from the walls of the home like thorned snakes.

 “No!” Hinata fell back a step despite himself. Angry tears welled in his eyes, and he straightened. “My parents are dead, and I—I....” 

The witch’s expression softened. He sighed, arms uncrossing. The roses eased back to lean against the house. “I can’t bring back the dead. I’m sorry.” 

Hinata nodded, choking on the words. Even if it wasn’t why he’d come, he’d hoped secretly, deep down, that it might be a possibility. “I… I understand,” he whispered hoarsely. “But, please, I—I’m scared for my little sister, she’s been through so much already and I—I don’t know if it’s safe for her to be near me. If I change like my dad did—” 

“Change?” The witch’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

“—Into a wolf—I don’t want to hurt her, so please….! Is there anything you can do? I’ll find some way to repay you I swear!” 

The witch let Hinata’s babbling fade into silence, watched him with unreadable dark eyes. “Come inside,” he said finally. “I’ll pour some tea.” 

He turned away before Hinata could answer, and disappeared into the home. Hinata scrambled after him, closing the door behind himself. He looked around the witch’s house with wide eyes, not sure what he was getting himself into. 

 

Potted plants scattered over every surface of the home and bundled herbs hung from wooden rafters. Bowls of fruit, flowers, and leaves mingled with jars and bottles of amber liquid. Shelves lined the walls, sporting carefully-bound books and handwritten journals. Crystals gleamed in the sunlight—orbs and points and pendants sat on shelves or hung from the ceiling, coloring the light that passed through them. The forest air carried through the home by one of the many open windows, and translucent curtains danced in the wind. A crow perched on one of the sills, watching Hinata with head tipped to one side.

 Something was pressed into Hinata’s hand; he took it automatically, looking down at the cup of tea steaming in his grip. The witch held a matching cup and watched him for a moment, before stepping over to sit at a tiny table laden with plants and books. “Sit.” 

Hinata drifted over, sitting across from him uneasily. He looked at the flowering plants near him and wondered if they were poisonous. 

“They’re not going to bite,” the witch told him, taking a sip of tea. “Unless you piss me off.” 

“Are they… um, poisonous?” 

“Don’t be stupid.” 

Hinata bristled at the insult and took a drink of his tea before he could say something stupid. He burned his mouth and almost choked. It was good, though, he thought glumly. Sweet and minty. 

“There are no poisonous plants in the kitchen, or the house. They are out in the garden. It’s safer that way.” 

Oh. So he did grow deadly plants. Hinata looked down at his tea as a terrible, horrible idea blossomed in his mind. 

The plants on the table snapped up to attention as the witch growled in irritation. “It’s not poisoned, dumbass, it’s lavender tea with honey, same as mine. I don’t invite idiots into my house just to kill them.” 

“O-oh,” Hinata managed, taking another sip of the tea and trying to calm his frayed nerves. The crow on the windowsill cawed and he nearly jumped out of his skin. “Can you read minds?” 

“No, but you think very loudly.” The witch rolled his eyes. 

“Right,” Hinata kicked his feet, taking another drink of the tea. He tried to figure out where to start. He was in the witch’s house, had the witch’s attention, but everything that had happened roiled inside of him like acid, trapped in his chest useless and wordless. 

“Kageyama Tobio.” 

“What?” Hinata’s head snapped up in surprise; a little bit of his tea sloshed onto the table. 

“You gave your name. That one’s mine.” 

“Oh,” Hinata’s eyes widened. There was something weird about the exchange, as if they had shared two secrets of equal value. 

“So.” Kageyama swirled the tea in his cup before taking a long drink. “You’re wolfhearted.” 

“Wolfhearted?” Hinata yelped, alarm picking up inside of him at the mention of being wolf-anything. 

Kageyama leveled an enigmatic look at Hinata; he felt like those midnight blue eyes could see right through him. “The body of a man, the heart of a wolf. Caught between two worlds. And when the moon fills, it reveals the truth of you.” 

“There’s nothing true about it!” Hinata shouted, standing up so fast that his chair fell behind him. His jaw clenched as he remembered his father’s transformation, remembered the pained cries and that terrible growl. 

“Hinata.” 

“I don’t want the heart of a wolf!” Hinata yelled, eyes burning as he clenched at his chest. “I’d rather rip it out myself! I won’t—I won’t hurt my sister, I won’t kill like he did—I don’t want to be a wolf _I just want to be me!_ ” 

“ _Hinata._ ” 

“I came here because I thought—I thought if anyone could help me it would be you! I didn’t come here for you to call me a killer, I just—” Hinata’s words halted; goosebumps rose on his skin in a lightning sensation and he doubled over, feeling weird. Breath heaved out of him and his nails dug into the table. 

Hands came down on his shoulders, and even though he jerked back, Kageyama’s grip stayed firm. Hinata flinched, looking up into searching blue eyes. 

“Breathe,” Kageyama reminded him. “Drink some tea, and breathe. Or you will change here and now.” 

Hinata stared up at him in horror. Something wet dripped down his cheeks. Kageyama reached behind him to right the chair, and Hinata sank into it, fingers tangling in his hair. The energy that had shivered across his skin, the weird feeling of his insides churning. Had he really almost changed? 

“I really am a wolf?” he sobbed, tea forgotten. 

Kageyama didn’t answer him. Instead, after a long pause, Kageyama said, “tell me what happened.” 

And Hinata did. Tears dripped onto the table as the words poured out of him. He told Kageyama about finding his father in the woods, about seeing him change. He told him about the dead wolf and his dead mother, and about the way the wolf’s teeth had sunk into his arm. He told Kageyama about Suga, about Natsu. He told him about his dreams, about the nightmares where he tore his mother apart himself, or where he faced the wolf and was killed by it. He told him about his dreams about changing, about running through the forest on all fours. 

“The—the moon is getting full again,” he whimpered, rubbing at his scarred arm. “I don’t want to become a monster… I don’t want to hurt anyone....” 

Kageyama stepped close to refill Hinata’s tea cup, even though he’d only made it halfway through the drink. He uncorked a bottle and drizzled something thick and golden into the cup—honey, probably. He pushed the tea a little closer to Hinata, and Hinata took it in his hands, staring into it. When Kageyama spoke, it was more softly than he’d spoken the whole time. “You’re not a monster.” 

Hinata shook his head, couldn’t believe it. Choked sobs escaped him, and his hands tightened around the tea cup. 

“Wolves are no more monsters than men,” Kageyama told him. His words were solemn, serious. “But like any other living thing, they lash out when they are hurt or scared.” 

Hinata gritted his teeth, stared stubbornly at the table. 

“…You are hurt and scared.” 

Hinata didn’t answer. 

Kageyama took a long drink from his own tea, staring down at him. “The harder you fight against what you are, the more it will tear you apart inside—and the more dangerous you will be.” 

“What am I supposed to do, then?” Hinata sobbed, sinking lower into his chair. 

“You must make peace with your wolf.” 

Hinata shook his head, half to refuse Kageyama, half to shake the memory of the murderous wolf of his father away. 

Kageyama sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking stressed. “Why did you even come here if you aren’t going to listen to me?” he snapped. 

“Isn’t there anything to get rid of it?” Hinata begged. “A-a spell, or a ritual, or a potion?” 

“No.” 

“There has to be!” Hinata yelled, only backing down when he felt the strange sensation crawl across his skin once more. “What about—what about wolfsbane? It sounds like something that might help, maybe—” 

“ _Absolutely not_.” Kageyama grabbed his scarred arm, hard. He yanked him close, glowered down at him with a murderous expression. “You will _never_  touch any of the plants here unless I say it is okay. Do you understand?” 

“But it might—!” 

“ _No!_ ” 

The crow on the windowsill cawed in alarm and took off as every plant in the household rose up to loom menacingly behind Kageyama. Vines coiled up Hinata’s ankles, and dark blue flowers crept over Kageyama’s shoulders. 

“Do you know what would happen to you if you consumed wolfsbane?” Kageyama hissed, voice low and warning. Cold fear crept over Hinata; he stood frozen as Kageyama leaned closer, an unearthly blue glow filling his eyes.

 “I… I would be cured…?” Hinata choked out a guess, even though he knew it was the wrong answer. 

“You would be _dead_. Wolfsbane is so poisonous that you can’t even touch it. If you tried to eat or drink it, you would suffer unimaginable pain until your little wolf heart failed you and _stopped beating altogether_.” 

“…oh.” Hinata swallowed. He leaned back, away from Kageyama’s fury, though the vines at his feet held him firmly in place. 

“Do _not_. _Touch_. _Any plants_  without asking first. Do you understand?”

Hinata managed a nod, voice stuck in his throat. 

“Good.” The plants behind him receded, and the vines slithered away from Hinata’s ankles. “Dumbass,” he muttered into his tea, leveling a glare at Hinata over the edge of the cup. 

Hinata shot a hurt glare back and sat back down, pulling his tea close. He took a few drinks before he found his voice again. “What am I supposed to do, then,” he whispered. He was half-afraid that Kageyama would tell him to make peace again, send him packing with useless words about finding himself or whatever. But Kageyama just sighed, and set his cup down. 

“Stay here, through your first change. You are at war with yourself, and are a danger to others because of it. Tomorrow’s the full moon, if you don’t change before then. I’ll make sure you don’t hurt anyone.” 

Tomorrow? Hinata’s heart sank; he hadn’t realized it was so close already. “What about you?” he whispered. 

“What about me?” 

“I could hurt you, or… or worse.” 

“Please,” Kageyama scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m not afraid of a pup like you.” 

“Who are you calling a pup!” Hinata sulked, drowning his indignation in tea. 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Kageyama retorted. “I live in the woods. You’re far from the first wolf I’ve met.” 

“You’ve met other wolfhearted people?” Hinata asked, looking up. 

Kageyama shook his head and grinned. “Better. I’ve met real wolves.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the full-size art for Rowan and Roses at https://rynthae.tumblr.com/tagged/Rowan-and-Roses ! More art will be added as the story continues, so feel free to check that tag periodically for updates, as well!


	3. The Star of War

Staying with Kageyama felt weird—the witch was bad-tempered, and Hinata feared that if he touched anything he might turn into a frog—but staying with him was strangely reassuring, too. Even if Kageyama glared daggers at him every time he looked at one of the plants or crystals, even if Kageyama called him an idiot at every opportunity, he was kind in unspoken ways. He raided Hinata’s basket (to Hinata’s loud protests—it was _his_  food) and served the bread from it with hearty, spiced stew full of potatoes, vegetables, and fresh herbs. When Hinata went back for more, instead of yelling at him, Kageyama joined him for seconds. And whenever Hinata felt that strange, creeping sensation spread across his skin in waves of hot and cold that made his hair stand on end, Kageyama would look at him in a way that was almost soft. Almost worried. 

“You might not last until tomorrow,” Kageyama told him, watching the moon rise through the window. It hung round in the sky; it looked full already. A bright red star shone next to it. Hinata looked away, hand straying to his scarred arm instinctively. He rubbed at the spot, and wondered how long he had left before he changed into a monster. At least he was with Kageyama. At least Kageyama could protect himself, right? It was the safest place for Hinata to be, and for that he was grateful. 

“Relax,” Kageyama soothed, pressing a small plate into his hand. Hinata jumped—he hadn’t even noticed Kageyama approaching. For a fraction of a second, their eyes met. He froze, lost in Kageyama’s dark blue eyes as the witch looked straight through him, right into the depths of his soul. The moment didn’t last. Kageyama looked away, and heat rose to Hinata’s face. His eyes dropped to the plate and slice of cake in his hands. 

“You’re only going to make this harder on yourself,” Kageyama murmured, taking a bite of his own cake. 

“I can’t help it.” Hinata stabbed at his cake with a fork. He slid down to sit with his back against the wall, knees tucked close as he took a bite. “If you were going to turn into a wolf against your will, you wouldn’t like it either.” He shot Kageyama a half-hearted glare, but the witch just shrugged. He shoveled more cake into his mouth to keep conversation at bay, then changed the subject. “That red star, I don’t think I’ve seen it before—what is it?” 

“The star of war.” Kageyama reached down to take Hinata’s empty plate, and took them to the sink to wash. “It comes around every so often, but most people miss seeing it when it does.” 

The star of war? “That sounds… bad,” Hinata confessed. He wondered if it was an omen. Maybe he really would end up hurting someone? Or worse. 

“It’s not bad,” Kageyama snorted, hanging the dishes up to dry. “You really are backwards. You want to eat wolfsbane, and you think the star of war is evil, what’s next?” 

“Well--!” Hinata made a face, reddening. “It sounds bad! It’s not me that’s backwards—the names are backwards! Besides, how good could a star of _war_  possibly be?” 

Kageyama sat down next to him on the floor, even though the table and chairs were right next to Hinata. “It brings change, that’s all. Could be good, could be bad. It’s a sign of endings and beginnings, of turning points.”

“That’s it?”

 “Well,” Kageyama hesitated, looking away. Was it just Hinata’s imagination or was he a little red? “No, but it’s all you need to know.” 

“What! Not fair!” Hinata sulked, bristling with irritation at not getting answers—until he felt the goosebumps spread over his arms. He gripped his scarred arm hard, thumb tracing over the little ridges where teeth had punctured flesh not long ago. 

“Don’t do that.” 

“Don’t do what?” Hinata glared at the witch, rubbing absently at the scar. 

“Don’t rub it. You’ll just bring the change on faster if that’s all you think about.” 

Hinata groaned, and leaned back, letting the back of his head hit the wall softly. “ _Everything_  brings on the change faster, what  _am_ I allowed to do?” 

Kageyama didn’t answer him. Instead, he reached over and pushed Hinata’s head away from the wall. “Tomorrow I’ll show you the garden.” 

“Wait, really?” Hinata looked up, surprised. He didn’t know how long he would be here for, and after Kageyama’s angry rant about him not touching plants, he’d figured the most he would see of the Rowan Witch’s home was Kageyama’s kitchen. 

“Yeah. But no touching anything unless I say it is okay first, got it?” 

“Okay, okay, I won’t touch stuff!” 

“…And, when Morgan comes back, you can meet him properly.” 

Hinata frowned, straightening up a bit. “Morgan? Who is that?” 

“You’ll see.” 

Kageyama didn’t offer an explanation—either for his strangely kind behavior, or for who Morgan might be. Instead, he pulled out a couple thick quilts and drop them on top of Hinata’s head. 

“…you should sleep, if you can. You’ll be tired enough after tomorrow.” 

Hinata hugged the quilts tight around him, half-glaring at Kageyama over the top of them. Hearing things like that did _not_  help. 

“I’m heading to bed. Don’t mess with anything, get some rest.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hinata mumbled. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.” 

Kageyama reached down to mess up Hinata’s hair before disappearing through a door at the end of the hall, leaving Hinata alone with his thoughts and an army of plants. Hinata found a warm spot on the rug by the hearth, keeping the blankets tight around him as he stared into the fire. What if he changed tonight—what if Kageyama was asleep and off-guard when it happened? His fingers dug into the blanket, and he tried to ward off the thought. He had until tomorrow. Right? The moon wasn’t full… yet. 

Curling up on his side, his eyes slid closed as he wondered how it would happen, and when. Sunset? Moonrise? Or maybe it could happen anytime during the day? His heart sank as he wondered if the rest of his life would be just like this—stressing over how long he could ward off the monster inside. 

His mind drifted. The blankets grew heavy and warm around him, but the peace didn’t last. Dark trees rose up around him. Silvery moonlight pooled along a forest floor and fell over him in bright beams. He jerked away from it, but it left a burning sensation in its wake. It followed him when he backed into the shadows, raised fur on every inch of skin that the light touched. The trees fell away, silent tremors shaking the earth as they came down. The clouds faded; the moon grew larger, and larger, and larger. Nothing stood between them, and Hinata cried out as the searing light washed over him, scorching to the bone. His body twisted painfully. His hands looked misshapen, wrong, as they fell to the earth to support him. Hot tears poured down his cheeks as he screamed and screamed, praying for it to stop. The moonbeams dug into his shoulders, held him down like a vice. 

“Hinata!” 

He scrambled backwards with a broken sob, but there was nowhere to escape. Wounds opened along his sides; blood ran down from them in a deafening trickle. 

“ _Hinata!_ ” 

Hinata’s eyes snapped open. He flinched away from strong hands on his shoulders, retreating against the wall. Broken gasps heaved from his chest as he curled into a tiny ball. _Stay away_. _Stay away from me_. Tears burned down his cheeks, and a roar like rushing water filled his ears, drowning out distant words that he couldn’t quite make out. S _tay away_ , he prayed, trying to become as small as possible against the wall. It wasn’t until he felt those hands on his shoulders again that he realized he’d said it aloud, was still saying it aloud, the words broken and pleading as he begged over and over, unable to stop. 

He barely heard Kageyama curse under his breath. The witch’s hands moved from his shoulders to the sides of his head, lifted it gently until their eyes met. Hinata could barely see through the blur of tears; his litany dissolved into weak sobs. 

“Shh, breathe,” Kageyama whispered, brushing tears away with a thumb. “Hinata, _breathe_.” In the dark room, Kageyama’s blue eyes glowed with soft light. His fingers brushed through Hinata’s hair, smoothed it down. “You’re okay,” he promised, even though Hinata knew it wasn’t true. Hinata shook his head, shoulders trembling. Kageyama rubbed gently at a spot on Hinata’s head, and he leaned into it instinctively, weak with exhaustion and emotion. Something twitched on top of his head near Kageyama’s hand. His heart sank as he guessed what it was. Kageyama didn’t pull away though. He stayed, rubbed the spot behind Hinata’s ear, whispered soft reassurances. He continued until Hinata leaned against him, half in Kageyama’s lap and too drained to care. A few stray tears dripped from the end of Hinata’s nose onto the rug below. 

His breath slowed. The tears ebbed away as Kageyama’s hand smoothed over his hair. Hinata drifted into an exhausted half-sleep by the time Kageyama moved—carefully, to set Hinata onto the rug and stand. He tried not to focus on the void that Kageyama left behind, or the fear of what dreams sleep might still bring. He hugged the quilts tighter around him. Kageyama had to sleep, too. He couldn’t depend on him for everything. This was his curse to bear. Fresh tears burned at his eyes at the thought, and he hid his face in the blankets to stifle them. 

Something nudged his shoulder, and he peeked up. Fragrant steam wafted up from an offered mug. 

“Drink this.” Kageyama held the cup out expectantly, watching Hinata carefully. 

Hinata accepted it with a weak laugh. It sounded more like a sob. “Are you putting me out of my misery?” he half-joked. He wouldn’t blame Kageyama if he did. 

Kageyama frowned. “I’m not going to poison you, for the last time,” he grumbled, taking a swig of the tea to prove it before pushing it back into Hinata’s hands. “It’s just to help you relax, that’s all.” 

“Thanks,” Hinata whispered, sipping at the tea. He thought it might be bitter, but it just tasted sweet, minty, and earthy. “What is it…?” 

“I blended a few things together.” Kageyama offered Hinata a hand up. Confused, Hinata took it and stood. Wasn’t he supposed to be trying to sleep? “Passionflower, valerian, and catnip to help you relax and sleep.” His lips tugged up into a weird expression—it took Hinata a minute to realize he was smiling, just a little. “With peppermint and a lot of honey so that you don’t complain about the taste.” 

Hinata took another drink, sulking. “I could drink it without that stuff,” he grumbled, even though he was grateful for it. 

“Come on,” Kageyama said, ignoring the protest. He steered Hinata toward a door near the back. The same door he’d disappeared through before. Hinata turned in confusion, but Kageyama opened the door and nudged him through. 

“Isn’t this—?” 

A modest bed with too many blankets and pillows sat between a nightstand and a bookcase. An armoire stood guard at the opposite side of the room. A couple flowering plants perched on the endtable near an oil lamp, and more decorated the shelves with worn books and carved stone statues. 

“…your room?” 

“Congratulations, your eyes are working at least.” 

Was Kageyama… teasing him? Hinata squinted at the witch in surprise, trying to figure out if the dry sarcasm was real or if he was still asleep on the floor and having another weird dream. He drank more of the tea to avoid answering. 

“Just—don’t rip up the blankets or anything, okay? It’s not big... and if you prefer the rug that’s fine, too. But this way if the tea doesn’t help....” Kageyama trailed off, looking uncertain. 

Hinata nodded numbly, staring at the bed as he tried to understand what was happening. Kageyama gave him a funny look. 

“I can sleep on the floor, if you aren’t....”

“It’s fine!” Hinata squeaked, surprised at his own answer. “This is your house and your bed, I’m not going to kick you out of it!”

Kageyama raised an eyebrow, but shrugged. He slipped into bed, looking suddenly tired. A pang of guilt shot through Hinata as he realized it was his fault, and he finished the rest of his tea, setting the cup down before climbing into the opposite side of the bed. “Thanks,” he mumbled into a blanket, curling up on his side. Kageyama just reached over to pat his head, gently, if a bit clumsily. He really must be tired, Hinata thought. 

He closed his eyes, too, still warm from the tea and the fireplace, and from where Kageyama’s fingers had sifted through his hair. His breathing slowed and evened. This time when sleep came, it was soft and dreamless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the full-size art for Rowan and Roses at rynthae.tumblr.com/tagged/Rowan-and-Roses ! More art will be added as the story continues, so feel free to check that tag periodically for updates, as well!


	4. Ghostflowers and Huckleberries

“…Hinata.”

Hinata groaned, pulling blankets over his nose. He tried to ignore the familiar voice. Maybe it would go away, and he would get a few more minutes of sleep. Except before he could fall back to sleep he remembered what day it was. 

Tonight was the full moon. 

Hinata fell out of a small bed that was _not_ his own. His eyes traveled from the pair of boots in front of him to their owner—Kageyama—who towered above, looking as intimidating as ever. Furrowed brows and harsh black bangs shadowed midnight blue eyes, and Kageyama’s lips pursed with either displeasure or worry. Confused, heat rose to Hinata’s cheeks as he remembered how… kind Kageyama had been to him last night. It didn’t match his expression now, but he could still remember the soft reassurances, the gentle touch of hands through his hair. Hinata’s hands rose to his head in panic as he remembered the furred ears, but they were gone. 

Kageyama’s expression softened, and he stuck a hand out. “Your breakfast is getting cold.” 

Hinata took his hand and stood. He still getting used to this weirdly gentle side of Kageyama. It was kind of nice, though. “You made me breakfast?” he prodded, grinning at the thought. 

“Yeah,” Kageyama turned away, his usual frown returning. “Don’t get used to it.” 

“Thanks!” 

It wasn’t a simple breakfast, either. Huckleberry pancakes with steaming syrup and sweet, black tea sat on the table waiting for them. Hinata had thirds—and swore he caught Kageyama smiling as he piled more onto his plate. For someone who hated company, the Rowan Witch sure knew how to cook. 

After cleaning up the kitchen, Kageyama put on a weathered black hat. Blue roses wove around it, and Hinata would have bet the secret location of his favorite strawberry patch that the flowers were alive and growing there. He’d never seen roses that beautiful shade of steel blue before meeting Kageyama. They almost matched the color of Kageyama’s eyes. The witch disappeared out the front door, leaving it open—and it wasn’t until Kageyama called, “are you coming or not?” that Hinata realized he was supposed to follow. 

“I’m coming!” He tugged on his boots and dashed out the front door, shutting it behind him. Making his way out to the garden, he spotted Kageyama with a large basket under the trees. Remembering the witch’s warning about not touching any of the plants—and his outburst yesterday about the wolfsbane—Hinata did his best to keep to the narrow path that snaked through the jungle of blossoms as he made his way to Kageyama. 

“Took you long enough,” Kageyama snorted, handing him the basket. “Hold this.” 

Hinata stuck his tongue out, forgetting momentarily that he was in the presence of someone who could kill him with plants. Kageyama just rolled his eyes, picking fragrant purple plums from the tree and putting them in the basket with others. Hinata’s attention wandered as Kageyama pulled more plums down. He looked over the riot of flowers, trees, and shrubs of all shapes, sizes and colors, and wondered what each of them were, and what they were for. Some of them had fruit (though he secretly wondered if some might be poisonous) but others were more mysterious. Maybe Kageyama really liked flowers? Or did they all have some kind of purpose? “You really grow everything here, huh?” 

Kageyama raised an eyebrow. “No, but I grow everything I can get my hands on.” 

“Same thing!” 

Kageyama set the last of his haul of plums in Hinata’s basket and messed up his hair. “Not the same. I’d have to have a garden the size of a kingdom for that. But I definitely have every plant _you’ve_ ever heard of.” 

He sounded irritatingly confident. “How do you know?” Hinata demanded. 

Kageyama led the way to another section with sprawling, prickly vines with large leaves. He knelt down and brushed the foliage away to reveal emerald green squash the size of his forearm. “Name a plant, I’ll tell you if I have it.” He snapped the fruit off at the stem, and set it in Hinata’s plant before grabbing another, bumpier one. 

“Corn?” 

“Is that really the most exciting plant you can think of?” Kageyama put two more squashes into the basket before turning around to look at Hinata in a mix of horror and genuine confusion. 

“No! No, I mean, it was just the first one I thought of, okay?” Hinata sulked and hefted the basket, struggling under the growing weight of it. “Um, all right how about….” What was the weirdest plant he’d ever heard of? “Snowdrops?” Hinata remembered seeing them as a kid, poking through the snow before spring had arrived with tiny, nodding white blossoms. 

“Yes. And many other types of crocuses.” 

“Okay—what about huckleberries?” The little purple berries weren’t exactly rare, but they were impossible to grow except up in the mountains. 

“Where do you think the ones from breakfast came from? Yes, I have a couple bushes. Blueberries and thimbleberries, too.” 

Hinata made a face, hating the thought that maybe Kageyama was right—maybe he really did have every plant Hinata could possibly think of. “Okay, if you’re such a plant know-it-all, what are the weirdest plants you have?” 

Kageyama’s eyes lit up, and Hinata’s heart did a weird sort of backflip in his chest. “I have all kinds of things you’ve never seen before,” Kageyama told him. He sounded so confident, so sure that he was right—but there was no arrogance to the statement. If anything, he sounded excited. “Come here.” 

Hinata followed Kageyama over to a section of the garden littered with logs and old tree stumps. Plants, moss, and mushrooms clung to the sides of the dead wood, and the earth under their feet felt spongy. Kageyama could have picked half of the plants and Hinata would have been impressed—wide, scalloped mushrooms stacked atop one another as they climbed high on a decaying log, or the delicate heart-shaped blossoms perched along the wandering stem of a small bush. But Kageyama knelt at the base of a stump and reached out delicately to a small patch of white. He brushed a thumb across it fondly. 

They stood only a few inches high with velvet white stems and a drooping white head—and Hinata was absolutely sure that they were mushrooms until Kageyama said:

“Ghostflowers.” 

“That’s a _flower?_ ” Hinata put the basket down and got down on hands and knees to get a better look at them. They were white all over and had the same silky softness of a mushroom, but sure enough the white, down-turned head was made of delicate petals—a flower. Hinata was afraid to touch them—both because of Kageyama’s previous warnings, and because they looked so _fragile_.

“They are parasitic flowers,” Kageyama told him. He looked down at his precious ghostflowers with fond eyes and a rare, genuine smile, and Hinata’s heart skipped a beat. He realized, abruptly, how beautiful the Rowan Witch really was. Without his usual frown or scowl, Kageyama’s lips curved up into a faint, lopsided smile that was more charming than he had any right to be, and light dwelled in his steel blue eyes with a soft glow.

 

 

“P-parasitic?” Hinata managed, heat rising to his cheeks. 

“They can’t absorb sunlight like the other flowers,” Kageyama told him, standing and dusting off his knees. “That’s why they’re white like that. They grow around trees and fungus and pull all their nutrients from them. You can find them in the darkest parts of the forest, if you know where to look.” 

“I’ve never seen one before….” Hinata looked down at the fragile white flower one last time before standing up. He had been so sure that he knew the forest better than anyone else before that terrible night. He was only just starting to understand that he’d barely seen any of it at all. 

“There are others you probably haven’t seen, too,” Kageyama told him, walking over to an old, twisted maple tree. A vine with heart-shaped leaves wound its way up the trunk with curlicue ends and white, spear-shaped buds. “This one only blooms at night. When the sun sets, the flowers open—just for one night. Even if you cut a bud and put it in water, it will only open at night.” 

“What is it called?” Hinata leaned closer to look at it, wondering excitedly if he would be able to see it bloom. 

Kageyama didn’t answer him. His expression fell, and he looked away. 

“Kageyama?” 

 “It.... It’s called moonflower.” 

“…oh.” _Oh_. Hinata stared down at the white buds, cold seeping into his chest. The flower had seemed so innocent and interesting before, but now all he could think was, _when this flower blooms, I will turn into a monster._  

“Hinata....” 

“You—you’re right, I’ve never heard of those before.” Hinata tried to force a smile, tried to keep the trembling out of his voice. A chill crawled over his skin, and his hand slipped on the basket he held. Kageyama caught it, took it from him, and Hinata turned away. He couldn’t face the pity in Kageyama’s eyes—or the way that he looked like he thought this was somehow his _fault_. “Is there anything else that we should pick from the garden?” Hinata asked, desperate to change the subject. 

Kageyama sighed. “Yeah, there are a few other things, but if you don’t—” 

“ _I’m fine_ ,” Hinata snapped, even though he was anything but fine. His throat tightened around the lie. He felt Kageyama’s eyes on him, felt the witch looking right through him, and tried to ignore it. 

Guilt coiled in Hinata’s stomach as the garden errands continued. Kageyama’s excitement to show his prized flowers had evaporated, and tense silence fell between them instead. Kageyama cut herbs and picked berries. He bundled flowers and scooped seeds into a wooden birdfeeder, but he didn’t speak. Hinata missed hearing him talk, but he couldn’t admit it. 

“This is for the roses,” Kageyama told Hinata, voice stiff and defensive. He handed Hinata a bucket of something that reeked of sickly sweet. 

Hinata wrinkled his nose and held the bucket at arms length. “Ugh, what is this stuff? It smells awful. Are you sure it isn’t going to kill your plants?” 

Kageyama’s lips twitched into a hint of a smile. “It isn’t going to kill them. They love this stuff.” 

“It isn’t something gross, is it?” Hinata peered at the thick, dark liquid. 

“Just table scraps soaked in water for awhile.” 

“Ugh.” 

Kageyama grabbed another bucket of the foul-smelling liquid. “You start at that end of the garden over there—” he nodded toward the plum tree, “and I’ll start from the opposite side. It’ll make it faster. Just a splash for each plant. You know what a rosebush looks like, right?” 

“Of course I know what a rosebush looks like,” Hinata told him, offended. Kageyama’s whole house was covered in them, so even if he didn’t before, he definitely did now. 

“Good.” 

“If I give them more than a splash, will the smell kill them?” Hinata hid a tiny smile, hoping Kageyama would say yes. 

Kageyama gave him an evil grin. “Keep it up and I’ll give you a splash.” He held his bucket up threateningly—which was all the encouragement Hinata needed to rush to the opposite end of the garden and start pouring the noxious stuff on all the roses he found. 

Unfortunately, there were a _lot_. Kageyama had at least as many roses in the garden as he had on his house, and by the time Hinata made his way to the middle, only a little bit of the sludge was left. Kageyama wasn’t far behind—he poured the last of his on a nearby bush. Hinata drained the contents of his bucket at the base of the last rosebush. It was smaller than the others, less sprawling. While blossoms covered the others in every color imaginable, this one had none. Only one small bud nestled among the leaves. 

“What color is this one?” Hinata asked, leaning close despite the stench. 

“I don’t know.” 

Hinata laughed. “Too many to keep track?” 

Kageyama straightened and walked over, looking down at the rose in question. A strange expression crossed his face, and he reached out to touch the bud gently. “It’s never bloomed before.” 

“Is it new or something?” 

“No,” Kageyama admitted, pulling back. “It’s been there for years, I always figured it was a wild rose. But it’s never bloomed.” 

“But it has a bud on it,” Hinata told him, even though he knew Kageyama had seen it. 

Kageyama frowned down at the rose, then at Hinata. He searched Hinata’s eyes, lips pressed in a thin line. “Yeah. First one I’ve seen on it. Maybe I’ll find out what color it is, yet.” He turned away from the rose, and headed back toward the house. “Come on, time for lunch.” 

Hinata didn’t have to be asked twice—he hurried after Kageyama and was rewarded for his hard work with sandwiches and sugared plums. As he finished the last of his plums—and reached out to steal a slice from Kageyama while the witch was distracted—a crow flew right up to the open window and landed on the sill with a caw. 

“Ah, there you are.” 

“There whose what?” Hinata swallowed the stolen piece of plum to hide the evidence, and looked over at Kageyama in confusion. 

Kageyama ignored him and held up his arm, staring at the crow. It tilted its head, flew to land on his wrist, and shifted its weight a few times before settling into place. “Morgan, this is Hinata. Hinata, this is Morgan.” 

Hinata frowned in confusion, trying to figure out what was happening. Did the bird understand Kageyama—did he have some kind of psychic connection with animals, too, or was he just crazy? “Morgan’s a crow?” 

Kageyama leveled a glare at him. “Obviously.” 

“How is that obvious!” Hinata leaned forward to get a better look at Morgan, curious despite Kageyama’s bad attitude. “And—is Morgan magic, too? Is he like—a cursed witch, or a magical animal, or a familiar, or?” 

“He’s a crow,” Kageyama told him, confused. 

“I know that! Nevermind,” Hinata sulked. Morgan probably wasn’t someone cursed to be a crow judging from Kageyama’s response. “Nice to meet you, Morgan.” He reached out, half-hoping to pet Morgan and half-wondering if he would be pecked to death if he tried. Morgan nudged his hand with his beak, and looked up at him with a low chattering sound. 

“He had a bad fight with an eagle when he was younger,” Kageyama told him, running his free hand over Morgan’s back. Morgan leaned into the touch with a soft _kra_. “Morgan was really beat up when I found him. I did what I could to patch him up, gave him a few meals. He’s been visiting ever since.” 

Hinata looked up at Kageyama in shock. He tried to imagine the witch tending to a hurt bird and had a hard time with it. So—Morgan was more like… a pet? 

“Why does everyone think you’re evil?” Hinata blurted out before he could stop himself. He instantly regretted the words, especially when Kageyama expression turned furious and—worse—hurt. 

“ _Evil?_ ” 

“You… you know,” Hinata continued, wishing he didn’t have to. “Like, killing or cursing people and stuff. Do you really do that?” 

Kageyama stiffened. The plants on the shelves around them snapped upright, stared eerily at Hinata as they all turned to face him. Morgan sensed the change in the mood of the room, and glided to one of the chairs to perch as Kageyama’s arm lowered. “What do _you_ think?” he snapped, voice low and venomous. 

Hinata’s blood went cold. He stood his ground more out of stubbornness than actual bravery. Kageyama looked like he could kill someone—especially Hinata—but more than anything he looked pained. Hinata held his breath, and took a step toward Kageyama. He reached up to take Kageyama’s hat off. Kageyama didn’t move. His eyes followed Hinata, and he stood violently still. “I don’t think any of that is true,” Hinata told him honestly. “I think—you have a temper and you’re not always very nice—but!” He held up a hand to try to pacify Kageyama who scowled, “but when it really counts, I think… that you are really kind. I don’t think you would do any of those things.” 

Kageyama relaxed slightly. He still watched Hinata carefully, still didn’t move, but some of the tension drained from his shoulders. “I’ve never killed anyone. And I’ve never cursed anyone.” 

“So… why is everyone so scared of you?” Hinata asked, sincere. 

Kageyama sighed. He raked his fingers through his hair. “For the same reason they will fear you,” he whispered. “Because we are different.” 

Hinata’s heart dropped. “…Oh.” 

Kageyama turned away, closing the subject. He didn’t say anything else as he brewed a pot of lavender tea. When it was ready, pushed a cup of it into Hinata’s hands and took his own tea back to his bedroom, leaving Hinata alone with his thoughts. Hinata sank into the chair that Morgan perched on, trembling as he stared down at the steaming, purple tea. “I guess I really am an idiot,” he whispered. Morgan clicked and hopped onto his shoulder as he took a drink of the scalding tea. Kageyama was the only person who could help him, the only person he could trust with the truth, and he’d driven him away with stupid, hurtful questions. 

“I just didn’t understand.” Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision. “I didn’t mean....” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He choked on the words, and swallowed more tea before setting it on the table to scrub at his eyes with a sleeve. Morgan let out a soft _kra_ and nudged Hinata questioningly, shifting his wings. Hinata rubbed at the scar on his arm, obsessing over the raised ridges, fingernails digging into soft scar tissue as he let out a broken sob. 

Hot and cold washed over him, raising goosebumps over his skin; he grit his teeth and tried to ignore the sensation, fingers pressing harder into his arm. “At least you don’t hate me,” he whispered, giving Morgan a wan smile. The crow hopped down to the table and clicked his beak against the mug, but Hinata didn’t think he could stomach any more tea. His insides felt like acid; his chest like broken glass. Kageyama was right—no one would ever accept him, now. He was a monster no matter what the witch said, and he was stupid to hope to see Natsu or live a normal life ever again. 

Tears dripped onto the table, and lightning sensations rippled through Hinata’s body. He tried to fight it, tried to push it away, but a part of him had already given up. There was no fixing him. There was no hope for him. This was it—this was what he was now, and he would drive everyone away from him by force or fear, because of it. His nails bit into his arm harder; sharp pinpricks of pain grounding him against the wave of sensation that threatened to overwhelm him. This time, he felt his ears move higher, fold down to flatten against his skull. He felt the ache of his teeth as they shifted, lengthened. He felt his nails grow to blunt points, felt something soft and furred tuck between his legs. Fur the color of his ginger hair sprouted along his forearms. He fell from his chair, let out a strangled scream at the sight of it, and tried to pull it out. He tried to get rid of the fur, to erase any sign of the monster he was. For every handful of fur he tore out, more sprouted to take its place, and the pain only made him change faster. White-hot sensation seared through every inch of his body; his legs folded underneath him, shifted and moved in ways they were never meant to. His fingers shortened to black pads, tears fell against reddish fur, and high, keening sobs turned to higher, pained whimpers. His clothes sagged around him, puddling on the floor. 

Hinata scrambled away from his clothes, away from the table, away from Morgan. A low, piercing howl dragged out of him as he cried and cried and cried. The sounds were all wrong. They were inhuman, the broken cries of an animal, they couldn’t be coming from Hinata… but they did. They poured out of him. Fear climbed inside of him, wrapped around him. He was alone. He’d brought this on himself and now, now that he had pushed Kageyama away, there was no one to help him. There would never be anyone there for him ever again. 

He’d been denied even this one, last day of humanity. He hadn’t even lasted until moonrise. 

Hinata needed out. He needed to get out, needed to get away from this place. He couldn’t face Kageyama, couldn’t face anyone, not now, not ever again. He ran to the door and reached up with his paws, but they rolled off the handle uselessly. He scratched at the edge, trying to force it open. He cried in frustration when it refused. 

“Hinata?” 

No. No, not now, not ever, but _especially_ not now. Hinata scratched harder at the edge of the door, whimpering as he tried desperately to get it to budge, tried to catch the edge of it with his claws and failed. _Stay away_ , he pleaded silently. _Just stay away,_ _I can’t do this._ His tail tucked low between his legs, ears flat against his head. He didn’t look back, couldn’t face Kageyama. 

 _Just let me out, I’ll never bother you again—I swear._ Tears dripped onto the floor as he whined, legs trembling so hard they crumpled beneath him. 

“Hinata—” A hand came down on Hinata’s shoulder, and he whipped around. He tried to push Kageyama away, tried to put space between them, but his claws came down on Kageyama’s chest instead, tearing through fabric and skin. Red blossomed along the torn fabric. 

No, no no _no no no_ — 

Hinata keened, high and broken, and ran; he crashed through the house, searched for an exit, tried to remember where the open window was. He needed out. He needed to get away from Kageyama. Hinata ruined everything—he just wanted to get away, now. His paws slid and skidded over the wooden floors. _Let me out, let me out, let me out—_  

A window shut nearby, and Hinata looked up in horror to see that Kageyama had closed it. He expected Kageyama to be furious—or worse, to look hurt, betrayed—but Kageyama only looked worried. He wished Kageyama would be mad, wished that Kageyama would throw him out or yell at him. It would be easier than seeing him like this: expression soft with concern despite the blood dripping from his shirt to the floor below. The witch knelt down in front of Hinata, offered a hand low to the ground. 

“Hinata, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m here. It’s okay.” 

 _It’s not okay,_ Hinata cried, whines dragging out of his throat instead of words. He curled up against the wall, head bowed and shaking. 

“Shh, I’m here, I’m here,” Kageyama soothed, brushing his hand over one of Hinata’s ears. He moved closer; something flashed in his hands. Hinata cowered away, afraid of what it might be, afraid of hurting Kageyama again, afraid of everything that could possibly go wrong. Something came down around his head, and he yanked back. A weight dangled at the base of his neck, and he looked down in shock. A circular white stone with spidery, grey vines hung loose around his neck from a leather cord. 

“Howlite,” Kageyama explained, as if he could read Hinata’s thoughts. “To help with some of the stress. It won’t hurt you. I won’t hurt you. You’re safe, Hinata.” He leaned closer. 

Hinata flinched away, but Kageyama wrapped his arms around him gently, hugged him close. Fingers sifted through Hinata’s fur, and the witch murmured soft reassurances. “I’m here,” he breathed, leaning against the wall with Hinata in his arms, until all of the fear and anger and tension drained out of Hinata, leaving him too exhausted to cry anymore. 

Hinata rested his chin on Kageyama’s shoulder. His ears and shoulders relaxed, he listened to Kageyama, trusted those words even though he knew he didn’t deserve them, didn’t deserve Kageyama. He tucked as close as possible to the witch, took comfort in the contact, in the gentle petting and the way Kageyama rubbed the worry out of Hinata’s ears. 

“You shifted earlier than I expected,” Kageyama murmured, even though he owed Hinata no explanation. Hinata was the one who pushed him away—not the other way around. A tired smile tugged at his lips as his hand drifted over Hinata’s spine. “You really are an odd one: your first shift at high noon instead of moonrise.” 

Hinata whined apologetically, head lowering in shame. 

Kageyama draped an arm around him and leaned back against the wall. “There’s nothing wrong with it,” he told Hinata. “It’s just different.” 

Different. The same word Kageyama had used to explain why he and Hinata would never, ever belong with other people. The same word that drove them away from everyone else, inspired fear in others, sentenced them to a life alone. Hinata’s ears sank along with his hope. 

“Hey, now.” Kageyama rubbed one of his drooping ears. “I’m different, too, remember.” 

 _Yeah,_ Hinata thought glumly, _but all I do is ruin your life._  

“I’m not afraid of you,” he told Hinata. It wasn’t boastful, wasn’t arrogant. It was open and honest. “And you’re not alone.” 

Hinata nudged at Kageyama’s chest, whimpered as he remembered he’d already hurt Kageyama. He hadn’t meant to—he had just wanted space, just wanted to get away. 

“It’s just a scratch,” Kageyama told him, ruffling his ears. “At least you didn’t try to peck my eyes out like Morgan did when I bandaged him up.” He gave Hinata a knowing grin, and Hinata relaxed against him, leaned into Kageyama’s arms. He felt a little better hearing that. 

Kageyama hummed thoughtfully, closing his eyes. He leaned his head against Hinata’s. He looked tired. Hinata pressed his nose into Kageyama’s cheek in apology. “I think you should stay inside tonight,” he told Hinata. “You could get overwhelmed or hurt out there, at least, until you get used to the change. But I’ll bring in some moonflowers for you, if you want.” 

Hinata’s tongue darted out over Kageyama’s cheek before he could stop himself, in thanks for the offer. He knew he didn’t deserve it, but it made him feel better anyway. Kageyama ruffled his fur. “I’ll make upside-down cake tonight, too. I was going to anyway, since it’s a hard night for both of us. You’ll still eat it, right?” 

Hinata’s tail gave a tiny, hopeful wag. 

Kageyama shifted, pressed a kiss to Hinata’s forehead. Heat rose to Hinata’s face as he wondered at the fond gesture, and his tail betrayed him, wagging harder. He wiggled closer, tongue darting out to lick Kageyama’s cheek. Kageyama laughed, soft and smiling. “You were so worried,” he murmured. “You never had any reason to be, you sweet idiot.” 

Hinata pushed him with his front paws to knock him over, and licked his nose for good measure. Relief washed over him as he realized, despite his stupid words earlier, Kageyama was there for him. He wasn’t alone. 

Even if they were different, at least they were different together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the full-size art for Rowan and Roses at rynthae.tumblr.com/tagged/Rowan-and-Roses ! More art will be added as the story continues, so feel free to check that tag periodically for updates, as well!


	5. Moonlight

Despite Kageyama’s soft words and reassuring touch, something was wrong. They sat for a long time together, and when Kageyama tried to stand, he wavered and crashed against the wall. His hand clutched at his chest for a second—and then, as if he’d noticed Hinata looking, he forced his hand to his side with white-knuckled effort. His dark shirt stuck to his torso, and he reeked of copper. Hinata whined, ears flattening. He nudged Kageyama’s leg, tried to get him to sit back down and rest. Dinner and cake weren’t important. Kageyama was. 

Kageyama didn’t listen. Hinata _knew_ that Kageyama understood him, knew that he understood what Hinata wanted, but Kageyama just ruffled his fur and staggered into the kitchen. He wasn’t the only one worried, either. Morgan perched on Kageyama’s shoulder and pecked at his ear with low, chastising clicks. Hinata paced the length of the house, one eye on the witch constantly. He pressed his nose to each potted plant, breathed in the scent, and wondered which one might help Kageyama. One of them had to help, right? And Kageyama said the poisonous ones were outside—so if there was a plant that might help maybe it would be in here.... 

“Oi. Stop messing with the plants,” Kageyama called over, though his words held no venom. 

And even though Hinata wanted desperately to help, he had no idea which plant was the right one. He wandered back into the kitchen, head hanging low, and curled up near Kageyama to watch him worriedly instead. He watched the way Kageyama leaned against the counter for support, watched the way his mouth twitched into a grimace every time he turned to grab something. He watched the color drain from Kageyama’s face; watched the light dim in his striking blue eyes. Hinata watched his chest rise and fall, too fast, and watched his hand shake as he stirred a pot that filled the entire house with the divine scent of rich potatoes and steaming cream. He watched with flattened ears and a low whimper as Kageyama sliced the plums they’d collected earlier, grip unsteady as the knife cut through the fruit he held. 

 _You don’t have to do this,_ he thought, leaning his head against Kageyama’s leg. He wished the witch understood that. Wished that he would worry more about himself. 

After an eternity—and after the cake made its way into the oven—Kageyama set a bowl full of decadent-smelling, creamy soup down in front of Hinata’s nose, and cradled a bowl close for himself. “The cake will be done soon, too,” he told Hinata. And even though Hinata could almost taste the sweet, fruity scent that emanated from the oven, it was the last thing he worried about. 

Despite Hinata’s concern, his stomach rumbled at the cacophony of heady, delicious smells that filled the home. He breathed them in, salivating and licking his lips before leaning down to inspect his bowl of soup. Casting one last look up at Kageyama to make sure he wasn’t going to fall over in the couple minutes it would take to scarf the meal down, Hinata’s tongue darted out experimentally. The soup was _hot_ , hotter than he expected, but even the scorch of it against his mouth didn’t deter him. A riot of the most amazing tastes and smells surged through him; the potatoes’ simple, hearty flavors tasted sweeter, headier, richer. Hinata loved food—it was no secret. But food had never, ever tasted like _this_ before. 

It took Hinata a few minutes to figure out how to lap up the soup without spilling it everywhere or burning his mouth, but he managed to clean his bowl in record speed. And when Kageyama refilled his bowl with more, his tail wagged in thanks, and he finished that off, too. Kageyama ate more slowly, but at least he was eating. It was a good sign, right? He didn’t have seconds, though. Instead, he looked exhausted as he set their bowls in the sink. 

“I’ll go get those moonflowers for you. Wait here, got it?” Kageyama rubbed behind one of Hinata’s ears as they folded down with renewed worry. 

Hinata tried to push Kageyama toward a chair, tried to block the way, but Kageyama stepped over him—damn his long legs—and disappeared out the front door. A whine dragged itself from Hinata’s throat, and he pressed his nose to the edge of the door. He wished he could follow. Even if Kageyama said it was dangerous to be outside during his first change… it seemed just as dangerous for Kageyama to be outside, alone and injured. 

Injured because of Hinata. 

His tail drooped as he wondered how long it had been since Kageyama left. A few seconds? A few minutes? He wondered just how bad Kageyama’s injuries were, wished he had hands instead of useless paws. Then he could help, _somehow,_ and at least make sure that Kageyama would be okay. He wished he could speak—out loud. Even though Kageyama understood him well enough, he wished he could _insist_ Kageyama rest, remind him that he was hurt and needed to recover. 

Finally, Kageyama returned. Hinata pressed up against him as the witch set white-and-green buds into a bowl of water on the floor. “Don’t eat them,” Kageyama told him. Did he really think Hinata was that stupid? Probably. Hinata snorted disdainfully. “I’ll check the cake.” 

Hinata whimpered, curling up beside the bowl of water. He listened to Kageyama rustle around in the kitchen, and his mind wandered as the sunlight faded outside. The moonflower buds relaxed in the water. They peeked open, the single white petal folded into a loose spiral. Kageyama set a plate of cake down in front of Hinata, and sat next to him with a plate of his own. Silvery light poured through the window from outside, pooling on the wooden floor near them. A shiver rolled through Hinata as he realized what it meant. 

“Moonrise,” Kageyama confirmed, fingers drifting through Hinata’s fur. He balanced his plate on his lap, cutting into the cake with a fork. Hinata nibbled at the corner of his cake, and watched the moonflowers unfurl into beautiful, perfect white circles. 

Emotion welled up inside of Hinata. He tried to ignore it, swallowed the rest of his cake down and pressed closer to Kageyama, but the surge of feeling grew inside of him, filled him to the brim. Glued to Kageyama’s side with one of the witch’s arms around him, he tipped his head back. The feeling poured out of his mouth in a low, mournful howl. 

Kageyama smiled. It was so slight that Hinata almost missed it, but that tiny, fond smile reassured him more than words ever could. 

The house filled with the sound of his howls, eerie and musical. Kageyama closed his eyes, leaning against Hinata as he listened. He relaxed, brows unfurrowing, arm lose and comfortable around Hinata’s shoulders. 

Hinata didn’t know how long they stayed like that, pressed together as the music of his soul poured out of his chest and filled the night. He didn’t know how late they stayed up, bathed in moonlight, but he knew that in that moment, he felt closer to Kageyama than he ever had. They shared something wordless and precious. 

Hinata didn’t know much about magic. But he thought: this had to be it. 

This was magic. 

And when the first rays of dawn touched the horizon and Kageyama stumbled into bed with him, the sensation lingered. It lingered in the faint blue glow of Kageyama’s eyes as they slid closed, lured by the call of sleep. It lingered in the way dark bangs tousled against Kageyama’s pillow and in the weight of the witch’s arm around Hinata. It lingered in the warmth shared between them, under a mountain of blankets. And it lingered in Hinata’s heart as he closed his eyes, nuzzling closer to Kageyama as they surrendered, together, to what dreams may come.


	6. Potion No. 9

Warm sunlight lingered on Hinata’s face, intruding on dreamless sleep. He shifted away from it, nuzzled into the blankets and felt fingers sift slow and lazy through his hair. Blinking an eye open, he tried to remember what happened and where he was. Crystals, old books, and potted plants littered every surface of the small room—Kageyama’s room—and the witch himself murmured something in his sleep. His arms draped around Hinata, heavy and comfortable. 

In sleep, Kageyama’s dark brows relaxed, forehead smooth beneath tousled black bangs. Midnight lashes cast shadows over his cheeks, and his lips parted as he breathed slow and sure, chest rising and falling in gentle time. He looked so calm, like this. So peaceful. 

Late afternoon sun poured in through the window, and worry pricked at Hinata’s chest. Was it normal for Kageyama to sleep in this late? And… was it just his imagination, or did Kageyama look a little paler than usual? 

He squirmed a little, trying to get a look at Kageyama’s chest. Sticky, dry remnants of blood clung to both of them in a reddish-brown mess. Hinata’s chest tightened—his hands shook as he tried, frantically, to unbutton Kageyama’s shirt.

“Hinata…?” Kageyama frowned, eyes squinting open in half-asleep confusion. “What are you—”

“It wasn’t just a scratch—” Hinata gasped. “You’re—you’re hurt, badly.”

Kageyama groaned, shoving him half-heartedly. “I’m fine, leave it. Just give me… a few more minutes….”

“No, you’re hurt! Kageyama, this is serious!” Hinata pinned him down, practically tearing the buttons off in his desperation to see the damage he’d done. It wasn’t until he had the shredded shirt completely open that he realized he was sitting, nude, on top of Kageyama.

Kageyama seemed to realize this, too, blue eyes widening. They drifted down to Hinata’s chest, then jerked back up. Kageyama shifted from alarmingly pale to flushed red from his ears to his shoulders. “I’m—” He choked on the words, and tried again. “I’m fine, dumbass, it’s not that bad.”

Heat rolled off Hinata in waves as shame and something more potent enveloped him. He scrambled off the bed in a graceless crash. Grabbing the nearest blanket to wrap around himself, he yelped, “stay here! I’ll get something to help!”

He careened out of the room, slamming the door behind him, and barely caught the sound of muffled laughter. Groaning with embarrassment, Hinata slid down the door and tried to collect himself. Morgan perched on the table and watched him in concern.

“I’m fine.” He sighed dramatically, feeling anything but. Kageyama would probably laugh at him for the rest of his life. Embarrassed or not, Hinata couldn’t shake the sight of Kageyama’s bloodied chest out of his mind. He couldn’t shake the way red clawed down Kageyama’s fair skin, splitting it open from his collarbone to his navel. “I’m the wooorst,” Hinata groaned, rolling on the floor. “I told him, Morgan, I _told_ him I was dangerous!”

Morgan tilted his head and tapped on the table thoughtfully.

“But did he listen? Nooo, of course not! I—I have to help him. There’s gotta be something around here, right?” Hinata grabbed his pants from where they’d fallen the night before and turned away from the crow to shove them on.

“Hinata?”

Hinata bumped into the chair in alarm, knocking it over.

“What are you doing out there?”

Kageyama’s voice called out from the bedroom. It sounded soft. Too soft. Hinata wondered in growing horror if Kageyama would die, and he grabbed a few worn journals off of the table, flipping through them.

“I’m just, uh—” he couldn’t let Kageyama know he was looking through his spell books or potion books or whatever they were. “Making tea! Yeah! And uh, getting breakfast!”

“Just hurry up and get back here.”

“I will!” Hinata looked around desperately for the kettle. It was, of course, on the stove where Kageyama had left it. After a few failed tries, Hinata managed to light the stove and start heating the water. While the kettle was on, he returned to his frantic task of looking for something to heal Kageyama. He was a witch—he was bound to have some kind of healing potion somewhere around here, right? And the journals should have some kind of clue….

“Morgan, I need a healing potion for Kageyama,” Hinata hissed. He needed all the help he could get.

Morgan stared at him.

“ _Please,_ ” he added.

Morgan pecked at one of the books, and Hinata took it as a sign, flipping the book open immediately. Careful illustrations of bottles, leaves, and gemstones marked each page along with neat lists of ingredients. Rather than a name, each potion seemed to have a number. ‘No. 3’ had a simple four-leaf clover sketched onto the corner next to the name. ‘No. 4’ had a skull drawn onto the corner and circled in violent, red ink. Definitely not that one. Hinata flipped through obscure pages, peering at the symbol next to each number until he got to one that looked promising.

‘No. 9.’

No angry red ink, nothing that sounded too dangerous in the ingredients, and a delicate heart was drawn next to the name. The corners of the page were worn down as if Kageyama had made it a few times. This had to be the one.

Picking up the book, he carried it with him to the cupboards, pulling each one open until he found one, next to the stove, with numbered bottles inside. He pushed a few aside, mumbling the numbers as he read the labels and finally found ‘No. 9’ in the back. Another heart marked the label next to its number.

“This one, right, Morgan? This one will help Kageyama?”

Morgan hopped over to an empty teacup and nudged it approvingly. Hinata hurried to put the books away, juggled the bottle of healing potion and the kettle. Now that he was making the tea instead of Kageyama, Hinata struggled to remember what order to do it in, or where anything was. He found a metal mesh cup thing with a handle—Kageyama had used that to strain the tea, right?—and a jar of each lavender and honey on the counter. Hinata set the precious potion onto the counter next to them and poured the boiling water from the kettle into two teacups.

“Hinata?” Kageyama sounded less-than-pleased. “Are you brewing tea or writing a book out there?” He grumbled something else that Hinata didn’t quite catch, something about ‘don’t you dare… change out there.’

“I’m fine!” Hinata yelped back, half-ready-to-fight at the suggestion that he might change again so soon, and half-reassured that Kageyama worried about him enough to think it. “It’s almost done!”

With no idea how much lavender to use, Hinata just filled the narrow metal sieve up to the top and set it in one of the cups as he poured honey into the other. He paced the kitchen, closing rogue cabinet doors and erasing any sign that he’d been poking around as he waited for the tea to steep. When he was sure the tea must be done, he switched, putting the lavender in the other cup to steep and pouring a generous amount of honey into the other. Lavender buds drifted across the surface like tiny boats. Uncorking the potion, he peered at the directions below:

_Three spoonfuls, no more, to set a heart aglow._

Three spoonfuls.

Hinata counted them out carefully, nearly emptying the potion bottle. It was a problem for another day—right now Kageyama needed help. He stirred the tea, corked the bottle once more, and put it back where it belonged. He double-checked to make sure the kitchen was how he left it, grabbed a couple slices of left-over cake, and struggled to carry everything to the bedroom door. He set the cups and plates down on the floor to open the door before finally carrying them to Kageyama. Kageyama watched him, one brow raised suspiciously.

“Took you forever.”

“I didn’t know where anything was!” Hinata complained. It was true, mostly. He pushed the potion-laced cup and one of the slices of cake into Kageyama’s hands. He set his own tea down on the end table and bit into the cake, watching Kageyama. The witch took a drink of the tea and nearly choked. Hinata’s stomach twisted with worry.

“Just let me make the tea from now on,” Kageyama grumbled, giving him a half-hearted glare. “This is terrible.”

Hinata let out an offended squawk. “I made it with lavender and honey just like you did!” He prayed the potion wasn’t noticeable.

“You used enough honey to drown a _beehive_ ,” Kageyama told him, nose wrinkling. He took another sip though, and Hinata relaxed slightly. “And it’s lukewarm. But… thanks.”

Hinata stared in shock. He couldn’t believe that Kageyama was actually thanking him. Rather than ruin the moment, he finished off the last of his cake as heat rose to his cheeks. “Mmfyeah,” he mumbled into his cake, watching Kageyama finish his tea at a snail’s pace. He breathed a sigh of relief when the witch set the empty cup down.

Kageyama sat up, grimacing, to eat the slice of cake. Whether he was aware of it or not, his free hand strayed to his chest, over the gashes that threatened to split back open. Hinata swallowed down his tea and put it aside before scooting closer to get a better look.

“It… it looks really bad,” he whispered.

“I’m _fine._ Just let me rest and it’ll heal soon enough.”

“I should—get some water or something for that. Right? We have to clean it. Or—maybe a bath would be better?”

Kageyama set down his fork. “As much as I’d like to, I don’t think a bath is a great idea right now. It… needs a chance to close up better. Since you’re bouncing off the walls anyway, you can get me the bottle of gin in the cabinet under the window, though. And washcloths and bandages from that dresser over there.”

Gin and washcloths. Kageyama must be in a lot more pain that he realized if he was asking for liquor.

“Don’t make that face, it’s for the wound,” Kageyama told him, rolling his eyes.

“Oh. _Oh!_ Okay, anything else?”

Kageyama hummed. “There’s a small green jar in the drawer with the bandages. Bring that, too.”

“Okay!” Hinata raced out the door as Kageyama yelled after him to wash his hands first.

At least he could help. He felt a little better knowing that Potion No. 9 would work it’s magic to heal Kageyama, and he could help patch him up, too. He would be okay, right?

Hinata washed his hands before looking in the cabinet. There was an unlabeled bottle with a few glasses. He opened the bottle: it reeked of alcohol and something that smelled suspiciously like pine trees. Definitely gin. Hinata returned with that, pulled bandages, cloths, and the little green jar out of the drawer in the bedroom, and piled them onto the bed in front of Kageyama.

“You washed your hands, right?” Kageyama’s eyes narrowed.

“ _Yes_ ,” Hinata groaned, sitting down on the bed next to him. “So, now what?”

“What do you mean now what?” Kageyama asked, uncorking the gin. “Now I’ll take care of this. Just… rest.”

Hinata’s heart sank. All of this, this was his fault. It didn’t feel right to let Kageyama patch himself up, especially as hurt as he was. “I can help,” he whispered.

Kageyama’s eyes met his, dark and searching. He didn’t say anything for a moment, and then… “fine.” He pushed the gin into Hinata’s hands, followed by one of the washcloths. “If you can’t handle it or change your mind, just tell me.”

“I will,” Hinata promised, relieved he could help. “I pour the gin on here?” He pointed to the cloth, and when Kageyama nodded he did exactly that. Scooting closer, he reached out to run the wet cloth over Kageyama’s chest.

The witch let out a low hiss. “Gentle.”

“I know,” Hinata protested. And he was. He moved the cloth over Kageyama’s chest in careful, slow sweeps, cleaning off the mixture of dried and fresh blood. Red still leaked, slow, from the gashes, but he cleaned them the best he could. Kageyama shrugged out of his ruined shirt with a soft, pained sound. Hinata hesitated, cloth tracing down the claw-marks slowly. They almost matched up with his fingertips.

He’d done that. He’d hurt Kageyama. His hand shook as he stared down at the wound. A hand closed around his wrist.

"Don’t do that.”

“What?” Hinata swallowed around the tightness in his throat.

“Don’t worry like that. I told you, I’ll be fine.” He moved Hinata’s hand away. “You were scared.”

“I hurt you,” Hinata whimpered.

“You were just scared. I knew what I was getting into when I told you to stay.”

“But—” Hinata choked, hands wrapping around the green jar as Kageyama pushed it toward him. With a small nod of encouragement, he spread the shining, thick paste inside over the wound. Kageyama lifted his arms to let Hinata wrap the bandage around him. “I could have—what if I’d killed you?”

He dropped the end of the bandage, rocking back in fear. Kageyama didn’t say anything for a moment. He just tucked the end of the bandage in to secure it. _He’ll be fine,_ Hinata reminded himself, desperate for it to be true. _I gave him the potion; he’ll be fine._

“Come here.”

“I am here?” Hinata asked, confused.

“Closer.”

Hesitantly, Hinata scooted closer, nearly in Kageyama’s lap. Kageyama reached out to cup his cheek, his eyes meeting Hinata’s. His hand slid through Hinata’s hair, thumb rubbing behind his ear. Hinata leaned into the touch, tearing up. Kageyama should be afraid of him, should hate him. So why…?

“You were just scared, Hinata. It’s okay to be scared.” Kageyama paused. “You’re not alone, and you’re not killing anyone. Just breathe. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not so fragile that you can kill me on accident.” He huffed. “Except, maybe with terrible tea.”

Hinata sobbed, leaning into his touch. He threw his arms around Kageyama, trying to be careful of Kageyama’s wound. The witch wrapped arms around him in return, fingers still soothing through Hinata’s hair. Hinata curled close, burying his face in Kageyama’s neck as the witch pulled him back down into bed.

Kageyama didn’t let him go, not even after his sobs had died down, not even after Kageyama brushed away the drying tears.

“You’re really going to be okay?” Hinata whispered, voice breaking around the words.

“I am. Really.” Kageyama nuzzled into his hair with a low sigh. “You really are a dumbass,” he murmured, voice fond.

“Did the tea help a little?” Hinata reached down, resting one hand over Kageyama’s bandaged chest. He prayed that those three spoonfuls would help Kageyama heal.

“It was too sweet.” Kageyama’s nose wrinkled, and his eyes drifted closed as he relaxed. “But yeah, it did… thanks.”

Hinata couldn’t help a small, relieved smile. “When did you get so nice?” he murmured. Kageyama didn’t answer, though. His chest rose and fell in the peaceful rhythm of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: Don’t make potions out of bleeding hearts, no matter how pretty or cool they look. They are poisonous and I only painted them for the aesthetic. If you want the real recipe for the potion it will probably be in a future chapter, though!


	7. An Unwelcome Visitor

“Take a deep breath. Focus on the change.”

“Kageyama—this is a bad idea.” Hinata squirmed under the witch’s scrutiny, blanket hugged tight around him more for modesty than warmth as he stood naked in the garden. “What if I lose control again? What if I get lost?”

Kageyama sighed, sitting down on a smooth stepping stone. “You’re still afraid of your wolf, which is stupid. Sometimes I think you’re doghearted instead of wolfhearted. Part man, part lapdog.”

Heat rose to Hinata’s cheeks as he gasped in indignation. “I’m not a lapdog! I’m—I’m a dangerous, scary wolf!”

“Sure.” Kageyama rolled his eyes. “My point is—you’re not going to overcome your fear unless you work at it. If you want to feel safe around others then you need to understand your wolf. You need to learn control and stop fearing the change. And the best way to stop fearing it is by _doing it._ ”

Hinata rubbed at his scarred arm and nudged a pebble around with his foot.

“That doesn’t mean next century,” Kageyama growled.

“Kageyama—”

The witch let out a low, irritated sound. “Yes?”

“You’re still healing, from last time. I just… don’t want to hurt you again.” Hinata hugged his blanket tighter despite the sun’s warmth.

Kageyama’s expression softened. “I’m fine, really.” He stood up and took Hinata’s hand, pressing it against his chest. “Doesn’t even hurt anymore. I know you’re scared. I know this is all new and different, but I’m here. If you make a break for it....” The roses turned toward them, looking up at Hinata expectantly. “I’ll stop you. Do you trust me?”

There was something suddenly lonely in Kageyama’s blue eyes, in the way his brows knit together in worry instead of anger. It took Hinata a minute to realize that Kageyama expected him to say no. Which was _stupid_ because of course he trusted the witch. Kageyama had seen Hinata at his worst and still hadn’t turned him away. He was ruder than anyone Hinata had ever met, but he was also unexpectedly kind and understanding when it really mattered.

“Of course I trust you! What kind of a dumb question is that?”

Kageyama blinked, color rising to his cheeks at the outburst. He recovered, but not fast enough for Hinata to miss noticing it. “I trust you, too,” he said under his breath. “ _So_ , don’t worry, okay? Just—relax. Breathe… and remember the sensation of changing.”

"The pain?” Hinata asked, uneasy.

“Pain?” Kageyama faltered. “It… hurt, last time?”

Hinata nodded.

Kageyama’s expression turned stormy, and he ordered: “sit down with me.”

“Okay?” Hinata joined him on the stepping stone. It wasn’t really big enough for two, but he managed.

Kageyama joined him and ruffled his hair. It had become a habit lately, not that Hinata minded. It was kind of nice, actually.

“It’s not supposed to hurt,” he told Hinata. There was no bite to his voice this time. “It shouldn’t hurt this time. If it does, just stop and tell me, okay? I’ll be right here.”

Hinata’s fingers ghosted over the scar on his arm. Even though Kageyama was right there, he could still remember the agony that coursed through him last time, the desperation to stop the change. “Okay,” he whispered, hoping he sounded brave.

He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes, focusing at first on the sensation of Kageyama’s fingers sifting through his hair. Focusing on the warmth where he leaned against him, and the soft rhythm of Kageyama’s voice. The tension drained out of his shoulders, his breathing slowed to match Kageyama’s.

“That’s good,” Kageyama murmured in quiet praise. “You’re doing good.”

Hinata bit his lip to stop from smiling and reminded himself to focus. _Focus on the change._ He wasn’t supposed to focus on the pain, so he tried, instead, to remember the strange feverish chill that spread across his skin before: the lightning energy, the heightened awareness of anything and everything around him.

It started slow, this time. A shiver rolled down his spine. The hot and cold tingling slid down his shoulders, over his arms. It slipped down his stomach and thighs and worked its way down to his toes. He breathed in the garden air; it tasted sharper, cleaner. The hands that he gripped the edge of the stepping stone with softened their grip, and he dug nails into the dirt instead. His ears twitched back as he listened to the rise and fall of Kageyama’s breath, the breeze ruffling through leaves and the bursts of birdsong that punctuated the air.

Kageyama’s hand strayed over his head and down the back of his neck a few times; he leaned into it, tail wagging, and opened his eyes.

Kageyama looked like he was trying not to smile—and failing at that. A lopsided grin tugged at his lips. “That’s it,” he soothed, rubbing behind one of Hinata’s ears. “Did it hurt at all?”

Hinata yawned and nuzzled closer to lean against Kageyama. He felt less guilty doing it like this. Kageyama didn’t seem to mind—just like the last time, the witch seemed content to keep Hinata close and run his hands through Hinata’s fur. Hinata rested his chin on Kageyama’s shoulder, and his tail gave a little wag.

“I’m glad,” Kageyama mumbled; he seemed to understand. “See? It’s a lot better when you embrace the change. Not so scary.”

Hinata licked his cheek in agreement, earning a laugh.

“Definitely part lapdog.”

Hinata sneezed in disagreement. His tail vibrated with mischief as he contemplated taking revenge, and he grabbed Kageyama’s prized rose-covered hat. Leaping away, he ran through the garden with it.

“Hey, bring that back! Dumbass Hinata, you better not wreck my hat!” Kageyama ran after him, expression caught between shocked rage and the threat of laughter.

Hinata ran circles around him and through the garden, starting to enjoy his newfound speed. He’d always been fast—he could win any race he ran—but now, like _this_ , running felt like flying. Leaves whipped past him as he shot ahead. He leaped high over bushes and darted between Kageyama’s legs, tail held high like a triumphant flag.

He waited until Kageyama leaned his hands on his knees, breathing hard, before he trotted over victoriously.

“You brat,” Kageyama managed, grabbing his hat back.

Hinata threw back his head, emotion spilling over in a brief, singing howl. He contented himself to sniff around the garden while Kageyama caught his breath, nosing his way past blue roses. Something sweet caught his attention—sweet with a spiced edge. It was different from the blue roses, different from the peppermint or strawberries he wandered past. Determined to find the source of the mystery scent, Hinata breathed in, stepped this way and that, and followed his nose. The scent grew stronger, headier. He could almost taste it, like sugared cloves.

He ran right into the bush, got a faceful of leaves, and sat down to look up.

It was the mystery rose from before—the one Kageyama said never flowered. It was hard to tell in this form since everything seemed taller from down on all fours, but the rose looked… _bigger._ Emerald foliage sprawled across the earth, tipped in a dozen tightly-wound buds. There were definitely more buds than the last time. It looked ready to erupt in enough flowers to outshine the blue roses around it.

Hinata straightened with pride, sure that the rose’s success was due to the fact that he fertilized it when they had worked in the garden, instead of Kageyama.

“What are you getting into?” Kageyama warned, voice low as he walked over.

Hinata looked back, tail wagging proudly. Kageyama didn’t praise him this time, though. He just stared at the rosebush as if it had grown a head and started talking. He frowned down at it, before ruffling Hinata’s fur.

“ _Tobio-chan...._ ” A familiar sing-song voice called from past the trees, and the color drained from Kageyama’s face. The roses around them turned, painstakingly slow, to face the forest. Hinata looked up in confusion—who was visiting? And who knew Kageyama well enough to call him so casually?

Kageyama didn’t look like he heard the voice of an old friend. He looked like he’d heard the voice of a ghost—and he didn’t call back out to whoever it was.

Instead, he leaned down and whispered to Hinata: “get inside. _Now._ ”

Hinata’s tail sank. He wished he could ask him who it was, or why Kageyama looked so scared, but he couldn’t. Even if he could, Kageyama bolted for the house before he could react, shutting the door as soon as Hinata darted inside after him. Hinata looked up in confusion as Kageyama locked the door. Kageyama didn’t say anything, didn’t offer any explanation. He leaned down and picked Hinata up instead, wincing from the effort with his still-healing wound as he ran to the bedroom.

Hinata whined, pressing his nose into the side of Kageyama’s neck.

“Shh.” Kageyama set him down on the bed and reached around to close the door behind him. “Stay here. And stay quiet.”

Someone knocked on the front door. “Tobio-chan? I know you’re in there.”

Hinata’s ears folded back as he struggled to remember the voice. It sounded an awful lot like… the mayor?

Kageyama stood with his back to the bedroom door, motionless other than the heaving of his chest. His eyes were too wide, too scared. Hinata slunk off of the bed to press up against his leg. He didn’t know what was going on, but something was wrong, and Kageyama needed him.

“Tobio-chan, open up!” There was a pause. Kageyama still didn’t move. “Open up or I’ll burn this stupid house down!”

Kageyama flinched and reached down to run a shaking hand through Hinata’s fur. “Stay here,” he reminded Hinata, voice a mere whisper. The last thing Hinata wanted to do was stay here when Kageyama was in some kind of trouble. He didn’t know why the mayor was threatening him, but he should be with Kageyama. He should protect Kageyama, and the instinct to follow nearly consumed him. His ears flattened as he whimpered. Kageyama left the bedroom and closed the door behind him, trapping Hinata inside.

He stared at the doorknob, uselessly, remembering his last failed attempt to use one in this form.

_Kageyama,_ he prayed, _be careful._

Hinata paced, uneasy, as he listened to Kageyama unlock the front door, listened to footsteps make their way across the house.

“I’ll make some tea.” Kageyama sounded tired. Resigned.

“Don’t bother,” Mayor Oikawa retorted. Hinata was finally sure—it really was the mayor. “You know what this is about, _Tobio-chan._ ”

Hinata curled up next to the door, pressing his nose into the crack underneath. He tried to see, tried to smell what was happening.

“I never know what possesses you to visit me.” It was weird. Kageyama should be mad—he was being threatened, and the mayor was being rude even if Hinata didn’t understand why. Kageyama would be mad if it was anyone else, so why did he sound like he’d given up already?

“The wolves! Don’t play this stupid game with me—I know that you’re sending them! One man dead, and now another’s gone missing. There are—there are rumors of men turning into wolves, and I _know_ you’re behind it. What other monster would do such a thing?”

That earned a response. Kageyama growled, “I am not a monster. And I am not sending anything or changing anyone. I’m minding my own damn business, well outside of your stupid town.”

“You can’t fool me like you fool him!” Something heavy crashed to the ground and broke.

Hinata heard Kageyama let out a broken gasp, and more crashes followed.

“ _Get out,_ ” Kageyama whispered, sounding hoarse.

“You think you can tell me what to do?” the mayor snapped, more crashes followed. “You and your stupid plants and your stupid magic—you ruin everything, Tobio!”

“ _GET OUT!”_ Kageyama roared.

The plants in the bedroom snapped upright, trembling with tension. Hinata couldn’t stand it anymore. Kageyama had told him to stay, but he was in danger. Hinata needed to help him. He needed to get out.

He glared down at his paws. He knew he had to change back, knew it was the only way to get out, and even though he still didn’t trust that he could do it, he had to try. Hinata closed his eyes, took deep, long breaths despite the way his heart hammered inside his chest. He focused on remembering the feel of his hands against the teacup, of Kageyama’s soft, straight hair slipping through his fingers. He tried to remember the feeling of Kageyama’s arm draped around him when he woke up the morning after his first change.

_Focus._

He focused on remembering the way Kageyama’s name felt when he said it, on remembering the heat that crept up his cheeks whenever Kageyama teased him.

Tension drained away from him. The wood grew harder underneath his touch, the air felt suddenly cold despite the warm weather. He felt the tickle of curly bangs against his forehead. Peeking one eye open, he saw his arm underneath him, normal and human.

He didn’t know if the change was complete, but it was enough—he had to get to Kageyama. He shoved on a pair of pants and burst through the door.

He didn’t even recognize the house at first. Broken clay pots littered the wooden floor in jagged, colorful pieces; dirt arced away from their remains. Crumpled leaves and smashed flowers scattered among the carnage. The front door hung open, forgotten. Amid all the devastation, Kageyama knelt on the floor, head bowed low. Tears splashed against the broken pot cradled in his shaking hands.

“Kageyama....” Hinata rushed to him, pulled him into a fierce hug. “I’m here,” he whispered. He still didn’t understand why any of this was happening, but Kageyama needed him.

Kageyama flinched, but slowly he hugged him back. He buried his face in Hinata’s shoulder, silent despite the tears that slid down Hinata’s skin.

Hinata stayed just like that, hugging Kageyama so tight that he didn’t have room to be scared or hurt. He brushed his hand through Kageyama’s hair the same way Kageyama always did for him when he was scared. “It’s going to be okay,” he promised. He looked over the swath of destruction that the mayor had left. “We’ll replant everything, okay? They’ll be okay, I know they will.”

Kageyama nodded weakly, squeezing Hinata closer.

“And next time don’t lock me in the room,” Hinata chided, nuzzling into Kageyama’s hair to show he wasn’t really mad. “I can’t protect you if I’m stuck trying to open a door with paws, you know.”

Finally, that earned a small, broken chuckle. Kageyama relaxed slightly, but he argued, “I’m supposed to be protecting you, idiot.”

“Well,” Hinata huffed, smiling. “I get to protect you, too. I am a big, scary wolf. If I barked at Oikawa he’d probably run screaming.”

A ghost of a grin pulled at Kageyama’s lips as he shifted to look at Hinata. “He probably would. Even though you aren’t big _or_ scary.” He ruffled Hinata’s hair, touch lingering behind one of his ears as he rubbed the spot.

Hinata’s ears perked forward as he melted into Kageyama’s touch, relaxing against him.

“You shifted back all on your own,” Kageyama told him, sounding almost a little proud. “Even though you must have been scared, too.”

“I couldn’t stay in there, I know you said to stay, but I heard the crashes and the yelling and—” His ears flicked back worriedly. “I wanted to help you.”

“You have,” Kageyama breathed, hugging him a little tighter before he pulled back. He rubbed the spot behind Hinata’s ear for a moment longer though. “And… you’re learning fast. But....”

“But?” Hinata squinted suspiciously, waiting for the criticism he knew was coming.

“But you forgot the ears and tail.”

“O-oh.” Heat rose to Hinata’s face and his tail twitched sheepishly behind him. “I was kind of in a hurry.”

“It’s cute.”

Hinata yelped in embarrassment, shoving lightly at Kageyama’s shoulder. “You’re cute!” He reached over to mess up Kageyama’s hair and darted over to the kitchen cupboard to hide his embarrassment. “A-anyway! Do you have any extra teacups? Or bowls?”

“Extra teacups? What for?” Kageyama looked up, confused. Hinata could swear he was a little pink, too.

“For the plants!” Hinata’s tail gave a hopeful wag, and Kageyama made the most ridiculous face. He turned a funny shade of red and failed at hiding his smile. And, even though Hinata suspected Kageyama still felt shaken by the incident with the mayor, he was just happy to see the witch smiling again.


End file.
